


Discouraged

by twistedmiracle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco is bad at flirting too, Harry is crap at flirting, M/M, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, TM's drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 10:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14447001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedmiracle/pseuds/twistedmiracle
Summary: After the war, Malfoy'd vanished for two years. Then suddenly, he was in the lift at the ministry with Harry as though nothing had happened. Harry had politely ignored him until he was suddenly everywhere, making everyone laugh.





	Discouraged

Malfoy grinned - lapping the entire pub's attention - "the kinkiest thing _I_ ever heard of involved nutella and a boggart!"

Everyone erupted. Reluctantly, even Harry. This was the stupidest. Worse, he did it every fucking Saturday night.

More accurately, every _no-one-ever-fucks-Harry_ Saturday night. Why the dearth? Because Harry had only one wizard on his mind, and Malfoy didn't care. 

Sighing, Harry debated another drink, but no, home and bed. Even alone, that's where he belonged.

He didn't see the way Malfoy's eyes lingered over the dejected curve of his back as Harry waited his turn for the pub's Floo.

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Home, Harry found his Pygmy Puff, Snickerdoodle, and sat by the fireplace, Floo off. Hermione'd been lecturing him on Malfoy for months, to the point where even Ron agreed. Their advice was easily summarized: "Shit or get off the pot."

Simultaneously remembering Malfoy's charisma, cruelty and charm, Harry slowly prepared himself for bed. He was so preoccupied he stubbed a toe on the bedside table and smashed his shin on the bed frame.

Healing himself, Harry sighed. Could he endure the inevitable bruises, from either course of action? Shit, or get off the pot. Neither sounded particularly enticing. Or safe.

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Snickerdoodle nudged Harry's foot, so he picked her up and cuddled her. Was it so awful that he didn't have a boyfriend? Work rocked, he was hardly ever in the _Prophet_ anymore, and while it wasn't sex - which he missed - he was often hugging and getting hugged. Molly mothered him. Ginny loved to tease him and ruffle his hair (which he pretended to hate but he knew she wasn't fooled). Ron, Dean and Seamus were always good for an arm wrestle or a smack on the back. 

And when she was tired, no one was cuddlier than Snickerdoodle.

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Settling into bed, Harry petted Snickerdoodle. She'd been a parting gift from Ginny, who'd declared, in a cross between a yelp of pain and a raucous peal of anger, that _a poof deserved a Puff_! She'd even named her. 

It hadn't taken Ginny long to get over Harry's change of heart. Not really. She'd tantrummed for a week, moped for another fortnight, then started to come round. 

The last step was to realize that the boy Harry was then mooning over - Ginny's Quidditch coach - was straight. He wanted Ginny, not Harry. After that, they were best of friends.

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Telling Ron and Hermione had been hard for Harry, but as soon as the words were out, "I broke up with Ginny. I'm gay," Hermione's bushy hair was drowning him as she hugged him, squealing; and Ron shook his hand hard, up and down like a maniac.

"Been waitin' to hear it for a few months now, mate. Thought you'd never say!"

Ron still snickered about Snickerdoodle; but Hermione adored the sweet little thing. Harry did too. She filled a ragged gap in his heart that Hedwig had ripped out when she died. 

Harry still didn't have a new owl.

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Harry woke up focused on a fresh start. He'd ditch this fascination with Malfoy. No more mooning around getting drunk, watching everyone else in the gang pine for Malfoy too. That was a Hogwarts Express train to nowhere and he knew it. Ron and Hermione knew it, too.

Instead, he could throw dinner parties! Learn a new hobby! Play pick-up Quidditch! Ok, he already did that most weekends, but he didn't always have to catch the snitch. Someone else could play Seeker for once. Especially, he thought, snickering to himself, if he was going to stop seeking a boyfriend.

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Harry swooped, watching Ginny Seek, keeping the bludgers off her. He was right pleased he'd stuck to two drinks the night before. He felt sharp.

Everyone'd been surprised when Harry'd refused Seeker, but Ginny'd already beat Brayedon to the snitch once. She was kicking arse. Both teams were in raucous spirits and had quickly agreed to best two out of three. 

Harry didn't even notice when Malfoy arrived. 

When the sunlight hit Ginny square in the face and Brayedon caught the snitch, the tension ratcheted.

"Don't look now," Ron stage whispered as he and Harry drank water, "but Malfoy's here."

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Harry spat water all over the grass near his feet. "Fuck," he said, miserably.

"Not happy about it?" Ron asked. "After all the moaning you've been doing about how fanciable he is? Besides, I got the impression before Brayedon caught the snitch, Malfoy was mostly watching… you."

"Nope, not happy." Harry said, feeling helpless, glad the entire pitch was between him and Malfoy. "Last night I'd decided to finally, you know, 'get off the pot'."

"Well," Ron said contemplatively, watching Malfoy watch him and Harry from across the large open space, "looks like when you got off… Malfoy… climbed on."

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Harry stared into the clouds and thought. Maybe Malfoy wanted him. If so, he could act like it, yeah? Coming to a match played by twelve of Harry and Malfoy's friends was hardly proof that he wanted Harry. He could've been staring at Harry because he could hardly believe Harry wasn't the one catching the snitch.

Harry finished his water and smiled. He'd dumped his crush and it was still dumped. He'd believe Malfoy wanted him when Malfoy asked him out on a completely unambiguous date. Not before.

"C'mon you lot!" Harry shouted to both teams. "Best two outta three!"

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Ginny caught the snitch minutes in, which validated Harry's insistence that she Seek, but it also meant no one wanted to go home yet.

"To the Hog's Head!" someone shouted, and before Harry knew it, half his friends were gone. Shrugging, Harry turned, intending to _Disapparate_.

To Harry's surprise, Malfoy was close by, looking uncertain. "Whassup, Malfoy?" Harry asked, feeling brilliantly relaxed now that his team had won, and he'd let go of any chance with anyone so popular and charming.

"Do you might if I join you all?" Malfoy asked.

"Course not," Harry said, feeling confused, and _Disapparated_.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Their visit to the pub was… bizarre. Malfoy barely spoke. 

This was crazy. Unheard of. Malfoy was the life of the party! Told sparkling stories! Did boisterous impressions! Teased adorably! Had everyone's ear!

Truthfully, this was what attracted Harry's attention in the second place. After the war, Malfoy'd vanished for two years. Then suddenly, he was in the lift at the ministry with Harry as though nothing had happened. Harry had politely ignored him until he was suddenly everywhere, making everyone laugh.

Until today. Now he sat in a corner and… listened. Laughed at other people's jokes.

And watched Harry. 

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Harry drank his firewhiskey and tried to ignore Malfoy. He snickered at Ginny's dirty jokes. Admired Dean's sketch of Angelina. Chortled at Alicia's dead-on impression of George. Still, Malfoy sat so close. When had that happened?

He'd spent far too many post-Quidditch Saturday nights mooning. Just because Malfoy had gone quiet didn't mean Harry should change his conviction to be his own man and not drool over someone who wasn't interested!

And yet, he was really beginning to question his certainty that Malfoy didn't want Harry. It seemed the moment Harry stopped staring at Malfoy, Malfoy had… noticed. And reacted. 

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Finally Harry made a decision. "My turn to fetch a new round," he announced to tipsy cheers of joy. "Malfoy, come help me carry it all back to the table?"

Malfoy stood without hesitation and followed Harry to the bartender.

As they waited for the firewhiskey, Harry turned to Malfoy, straightened his shoulders, and spoke. "You're quiet tonight, Malfoy. Under the weather?"

Malfoy shook his head. He looked bemused. 

"Then why aren't you the life of the party?" Harry tried.

"That stopped getting me closer to my goals," Malfoy said coyly, before Dumbledore handed over two trays covered with drinks.

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Malfoy started to head back, but Harry'd had enough. He put a hand on Malfoy's arm and waited until the man looked him in the eye.

"What goals?" he said simply, when he felt the weight of Malfoy's full attention.

"I…" Malfoy hesitated, then stood a little taller. "I was trying to get the attention of a man above my station. Someone a little too good for me."

"Who could be too good for _you_?" Harry snorted incredulously, but Malfoy just looked at him. Silent in the noisy space.

"We need a _real_ conversation," Harry declared, then led Malfoy back.

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Harry decided they'd be the last to leave the pub. It seemed he and Malfoy needed to have a frank conversation, but it was obvious this wouldn't happen in a pub, surrounded by laughing, singing, joking friends. 

And taking Malfoy home with him in front of the whole gang? **No**.

First Ginny took her brother George home. Dean left, then Angelina pulled Alicia up. Brayedon started making noises about needing to get up "kinda early," and then Ron and Hermione were yawning. Suddenly it was just Harry and Malfoy. 

Harry leaned across the table. "Opportunity knocks," he said simply.

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"Does it?" Malfoy responded coyly, but he finished his lager and stood: calm and straight like he'd drunk only juice.

"Let's find out," Harry answered, feeling enigmatic, and guided Malfoy to the Floo; following him into his stuffy, dusty parlour. 

"I should clean," Harry sighed quietly, barring his Floo. He led Malfoy to the kitchen, where he took out biscuits and started a tea kettle without bothering to ask what Malfoy liked.

"The other week," Harry said, facing away, "I left the party early, came home and decided to stop pursuing a man I thought had no interest in me."

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He planned to continue, but Malfoy interrupted. "The other week," he said quietly, "I realized a man I'd been trying to attract was no longer responding to my… methods."

"Damn strange methods," Harry growled, pouring hot water, turning to glare. "Why didn't you just ask me?"

"Who has the guts to ask the savior of the world out on a date?" Malfoy huffed, sounding embarrassed; and annoyed. "I just kept hoping you would see I was, you know, showing off for you."

Harry had to laugh. "Never occurred to me," he admitted.

"Well," Malfoy smiled. "Knocknock?"

Harry smiled. "Hi, opportunity."

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_Fin_


End file.
